Silence is a Healer
by Mousitsa
Summary: Sam has been badly hurt & Dean refuses to leave his side as he recovers. Short story in response to challenge to use "Silence is a great healer" as inspiration; tie in to episode scene or get creative & try a 3rd person POV observing them. Complete, Gen


_SUMMARY: Sam has been badly hurt and Dean refuses to leave his side as he recovers. This short story is in response to a challenge to use "Silence is a great healer" as your inspiration; tie it in to a scene from an episode or get creative and try to put it in the POV of a 3rd person character who is observing either one or both of the brothers._

**Silence ****is ****a ****Healer**

by Mousitsa

##

Working the graveyard shift wasn't an ideal situation, but it helped add a little extra to her paycheck since the divorce last year. It also allowed her to be home when her boys finished their school day. Her station was pretty quiet most nights. Equipment beeping softly, the sound of footsteps down hallways bathed in bright fluorescent light, and just a spattering of phone calls. She completed paperwork and kept a watchful eye on the four patient rooms straight ahead in her line of sight. A chirping phone line broke through the relative silence.

"ICU, this is Julie". She listened intently while jotting down notes and gave out the appropriate advice. The call was brief and relative silence returned once more to the nurses' station.

The patient rooms were sealed off by large glass windows which didn't allow for much privacy, but at this moment the patients resting there needed skilled attention, not privacy. Two were recovering from double and triple bypasses. Mr. Martinez, the octogenarian, was doing better than anyone expected, and Mr. Maletti, the 50-year old restaurateur, struggled along to overcome years of stress and bad diet. But her heart went out for Mrs. Williams, the soccer mom with two kids. Despite the surgeries, chemo and radiation, it looked like she would be going into hospice soon. Julie shuddered at the thought of getting sick like that and leaving her own boys. At 15 and 17 they were a daily challenge, and their constant fighting didn't help. She wasn't sure if that was just age and hormones or a byproduct of the divorce. Or maybe a little of both. She often chided them, saying she wouldn't be surprised to hear about them on the evening news under the heading of "_Fratricide-__rocks-__quiet-__town_!"

As she reviewed the stats and monitors associated with each room, it was the condition of the young man in ICU4 that made the biggest impression upon her. Sam Vanhalen. She chuckled at the name. In all her years as a nurse, she had seen some rather curious names, but as long as the ID and insurance cards matched, the hospital Suits were happy. The young man had been brought into the emergency room four days ago suffering from a collapsed lung, lacerated liver and several other stab wounds that had required immediate surgery. There was a bump on his forehead from a concussion and a few bruises and small cuts on his face that were healing quickly. She paused and wondered what brought about the scuffle and what the 'other guy' might look like.

The History & Physical report stated Mr. Vanhalen had been a victim of random gang violence, but she was sure there was more to the story. If there was, she certainly wasn't getting any details from the slightly older man there. He had introduced himself as Dean and kept mostly silent. There were a few healing cuts and bruises on him as well. They tried to get him go home a few times or limit his access, but that was futile. He would simply sneak in, so getting him to leave was a unique challenge. 'Please, he's my brother' he would beg and the nurses relented. He certainly had a charm about him that was hard to say no to! And that handsome face with the boyish smile and pleading eyes didn't hurt either in getting the nurses to go along with the rule-breaking.

By the time her shift started at eleven, visiting hours had been long over. And yet there was Dean spending nearly every moment in that room. The first couple of nights during those prohibited hours he would pull his chair up against the wall, just under the bottom ridge of the glass window, then slink down into it and become a ghost. Julie would discover him in the room while running her rounds and try to get him to leave, explaining that she could get in trouble for allowing him there. With a furrowed brow and piercing look, he stated 'I wasn't there in time to help him when this happened, so I'm not going anywhere now.' The determination was almost frightening. Then his features would soften and he would beg, 'Please…' He wouldn't say much more than that. He didn't have to.

The night hours were relatively quiet with very little traffic and she allowed Dean to move an extra chair next to the patient's bed. Through the windows she could see that he just sat there, seeming to sleep at times but often startling awake. Julie was certain Dean was not aware that she could see him. His demeanor in the room was quite different than the macho facade put on display when others were around. In his solitude, he would stare at the patient, the only movement being a lick of his lips and an occasional mouthing of some words. At times she could see rapid succession blinks and a hand wipe across his face. Or a look up towards the ceiling with deep sigh and a quivering lip. His head would drop low, almost touching Sam, and stay in this position for a while. The only time he moved was to go slink in the other chair whenever he thought he might be discovered and possibly kicked out. Witnessing this anguished worry was easily one of the hardest parts of her job as she was confronted by the fears and worries that families and friends had for their loved ones and not be able to help. It would just take time for the healing process to happen.

Strangely enough, she didn't see much physical contact between Dean and Sam. Families would often lay a hand on the shoulder of their loved one, or even hold a hand, and so far she hadn't seen anything like that. But then again, she often didn't witness the type of determination and dedication shown by Dean either. There was something about them and she just knew they must be really close. As if it was them against the world. It also made her secretly wish her own boys had even a fraction of that closeness.

She left her desk and slipped into a small break room. Within a couple of minutes she was heading back towards Sam's room holding a cup of something hot in one hand and a few biscotti-type cookies wrapped in a napkin in the other. She balanced the cookies in the crook of her arm in order to be able to slide the glass door, the sound jarring Dean out of whatever thoughts he was having at the moment. He should have been sleeping, but he wasn't, and he looked up with that worried look on his face that came every time they had asked him to leave the room.

"Hey Dean," she smiled and offered him the insulated paper cup. "I figured you could use a little something." The exhaustion had taken over his face and there were now prominent dark circles under his eyes.

"What is it?"

"It's chamomile."

He hesitated. "I'm not much of a tea drinker."

"I figured. But try it, it'll relax you. And the cookies are good, too."

"Thank you," he said, taking her items one in each hand and attempting a polite smile. "And thanks for not kicking me out." He took a sip of the tea, enjoying its soothing warmth, then rested the items on the small bedside table.

"I probably couldn't if I tried, right?" The silent head nod with the crooked smile acknowledged that. She placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "You know, Dean, you don't need to be here 24/7. You could go get some rest and we'll call you if there's a change."

"I know." Clearly, he had no intention of complying.

As she left to return to her station, he stood, his voice stopping her. "Hey, Julie? Do you know how he's- I mean, have the doctors said anything more about-?"

"Dean, your brother's a fighter. He made it through surgery and now his body just needs time to heal. It may not look like it but he's progressing really well and will most likely be moved to a regular room tomorrow. Once we get him on some lower dosages, he'll probably start to wake up."

He appeared relieved. Despite the '_probably'_ stuck in the middle of her sentence.

"Silence is a great healer, you know."

Dean seemed confused by her statement as he contemplated it for a moment. "Don't you mean 'time' "?

She chuckled. "That too. But I mean silence. The subconscious needs a quiet environment, without distractions, to let the body heal, since we never know how much the brain is still processing. The ICU offers that to a great extent. Silence provides that peace while time takes over the healing." As the door started to close behind her, she offered her last bit of advice for the evening, her words holding a sense of worry for his own health. "Try and get some rest Dean. It won't do your brother any good to have you collapse from exhaustion."

But rest would come only when Sam woke up. Until then, Dean returned to his steadfast vigil, hoping that silence and time were doing their job.

END


End file.
